


dereliction of duty

by saiditallbefore



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: 5 Times, Complicated Relationships, F/F, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiditallbefore/pseuds/saiditallbefore
Summary: Again, and again, Nakia leaves.  Okoye stays.





	dereliction of duty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Wavesinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/gifts).

**1.**

Nakia spins and dodges the spear Okoye thrusts at her, and brings up her own spear to parry the next thrust. Okoye easily sweeps Nakia’s feet from under her, pointing her own spear at Nakia’s throat.

“Yield?” 

Neither of their weapons are real, of course; those are for the real Dora Milaje. But Okoye already trains for the day she can be accepted into their ranks. 

“You’ve got me.”

Okoye’s face relaxes into a smile and she helps Nakia up, clasping her wrist for just a moment longer than necessary.

Nakia takes that for the invitation that it is, tilting her face toward Okoye’s and kissing her lightly. Okoye responds by pressing against Nakia more insistently, running one hand through Nakia’s braids and kissing her insistently until Nakia lets out a breathy little moan.

When Okoye pulls away for a breath, Nakia is pleased to see that she looks mussed, too.

“We ought to get back to training,” Okoye says, after a beat. “If we’re going to become Dora after university.”

Nakia feels a flutter of guilt. “Okoye..” They’ve planned this since they were children: to go to university together and enter service with the Dora Milaje, the royal family’s bodyguards, immediately after.

She hasn’t yet told Okoye that her plans have changed.

Okoye’s expression sharpens. “What?”

“I think I’m going to attend Oxford. At least for a few years.”

Okoye snorts. “Why would you do that?”

Nakia raises her chin. “It’ll be good practice. For joining the War Dogs.”

Okoye purses her lips. “I see.”

* * *

**2.**

The first time Okoye sees Nakia again after university, she is taken aback once again by the other woman’s beauty. Okoye has changed, too— she was recently accepted into the Dora Milaje, and shaved her head accordingly. But Nakia has traded in her long braids for short twists, and her clothes are a colorful combination of Western and Wakandan fashion.

“Hi.” Nakia dropped her overnight bag on the ground, where it landed with a thud.

“Hi.” Okoye searches for something to say. “It’s good to see you back in Wakanda.”

Nakia shifts awkwardly. “Only for a few weeks.”

The silence hangs heavy between them, and Okoye hates it. Things were never difficult between them when they were young.

“Okoye—” 

“Nakia—” 

They both begin at the same time. Nakia laughs, and Okoye smiles. 

“Do you want to...catch up?” Nakia offers.

“I can think of something better.” Okoye smirks.

Back in Okoye’s apartment, Okoye runs her fingers across the War Dog tattoo on Nakia’s ribs.

“You hate it,” Nakia says.

“No,” Okoye says. “Wakanda needs the War Dogs.” She traces a pattern further down Nakia’s body. “But I still think you would make an excellent Dora.”

Nakia laughs, and pulls Okoye forward into a kiss. Nakia’s hands wander down Okoye’s body, and Okoye presses closer into Nakia. Okoye breaks away from the kiss and moves further down Nakia’s body, to the coarse reddish curls between her thighs. She presses a finger into Nakia’s cunt, and relishes the small, sharp gasp Nakia makes. 

She brushed against Nakia's clit, and again to hear that little moan from deep in Nakia's throat again. 

Okoye leans in, taking in the slightly bitter scent. She licks a stripe up Nakia's center, taking pleasure in the familiar, slightly-sour taste and in how the other woman shudders at the sensation. 

Nakia presses onto Okoye's bare head, and Okoye is certain that she will have marks from Nakia's short fingernails. But she takes it as encouragement, continuing to lick into Nakia, swirling her tongue around her clit.

She continues even as Nakia begins to come apart around her, until Nakia collapses on the bed, spent.

Okoye curls up next to her, relishing the moment.

* * *

**3.**

“Ms. Otieno!,” the hotel employee exclaims. “I just checked in two other Kenyans!”

Nakia bares her teeth in the approximation of a smile. “We do not all know each other, you know.”

The employee looks abashed. “Of course, of course.”

Nakia sweeps past him, and makes her way to the hotel restaurant. It’s easy to spot the ‘Kenyans’ the man had told her about; they’re the only other people here with dark skin. And even if they weren’t, Nakia would recognize Okoye and T’Challa anywhere.

As she walks past them, T’Challa calls out. “Nakia?”

“T’Challa,” she greets him. It would be more appropriate to bow, but he seems to be avoiding attention. Besides, long friendship with T’Challa has taught her that behind closed doors, he prefers not to stand on ceremony.

He waves for her to sit, and once she does, he tells her in a low voice about what they’re doing in Tokyo. Nakia forces herself to listen, since the smugglers he’s speaking of are almost certainly connected with the ring she’s been tracking, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything when Okoye’s intense gaze is focused on her.

By the time dinner is finished, they have a plan, but it can’t be executed until the next day. 

Nakia follows Okoye and T’Challa towards their room— on the same floor as her own, coincidentally. Okoye sends T’Challa inside, then looks expectantly at Nakia.

“What will you do, when you are done with this assignment?” she asks.

“There are people who need our help,” Nakia says. 

It isn’t the answer Okoye hoped to hear. “It’s not our job to help them.”

“It’s not _yours_.” The argument is old and well-worn, neither willing to give in. 

Okoye recognizes this, too, because she simply shakes her head. “Be careful.”

Nakia clasps Okoye’s hand in her own. “I will be.”

* * *

**4.**

The king is dead. 

Wakanda has not even had time to mourn the passing of their last king, and T’Challa has already followed him. Okoye wants to scream at the injustice, but she cannot. There is no time even for that.

Her heart is lighter when Nakia tells her that Ramonda and Shuri are safe. But it is weighed down again when Nakia tries to convince her to leave.

Okoye has a duty to the throne. She has a duty to Wakanda.

Nakia leaves— Nakia _always_ leaves— but Okoye must stay and see things through.

She pushes the last, lingering thoughts of Nakia from her mind and walks toward the throne room.

Her new king awaits.

* * *

**5.**

“Congratulations.”

Okoye’s voice startles Nakia from her reverie. “Pardon?”

“T’Challa said he made you head of the new outreach center,” Okoye says.

“Shuri and I have a lot of work ahead of us.” Nakia’s mind is already racing ahead, thinking of future Wakandan Outreach Centers across the globe, of all the people they can help with their medical technology and their scientific advancements. It will be a slow process— Wakanda is a country set in its ways, and still closed to outsiders. “It will take a long time.”

Okoye looks out the window, at the now-pristine field in front of the palace. “It should not have come to this.” 

Nakia knows what she’s getting at. The Wakanda they’ve always known has been peaceful. The only threats they’ve worried about have been from outside. 

Having seen her friends and comrades erupt into violence— some of them grievously wounded— is sobering.

“No, it should not have,” Nakia agrees.

Okoye turns to face Nakia again. “I would like to hear how the outreach center is progressing.” She claps a hand to Nakia’s shoulder and leaves.

* * *

**+1.**

The Wakandan Outreach Center in California— the first of many— appears to be thriving. 

When Okoye walks in, she's not entirely sure what to expect. She’s heard Shuri enthuse about the programs, and she’s gotten intermittent messages from Nakia about the work she’s doing. But the large, welcoming building— reminiscent of Shuri’s lab, with its bright art and familiar technology— is beyond Okoye’s expectations.

Well. To be honest, she hadn’t known what to expect. She’d had faith in Shuri and Nakia, and in T’Challa for authorizing this project— or at least, she liked to think she’d had faith. But she’d never been able to envision what it would be like.

“Okoye!”

Okoye turns around at the sound of Nakia’s voice. 

Nakia moves as if to embrace her, but stops short. “I didn’t know you’d arrived already,” she says. “I would’ve sent a car for you.”

Okoye raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been outside Wakanda before, you know.”

Nakia rolls her eyes and smacks Okoye on the shoulder. “You know what I meant.”

Okoye glances around again, then says, "I could never have imagined something like this."

Nakia tilts her head. "You like it."

She does, but— "Does it matter?" 

Nakia touches Okoye's wrist. "I've always respected your opinions. Even when we've disagreed."

For once in her life, Okoye throws all dignity aside and pulls Nakia close, kissing her.

“I missed you,” she murmurs.


End file.
